(Intro)
NLMB 150 Roc block shit man
Ball like I'm kobe the mixtape
Hold up
Runnin' thru' a check
Herbo, herbo this and that

(Hook)
I rap, I trap, and stack, so I always get it back
Feens and rappers hit my flip phone like "herbo where you at?"
Herbo thumbing thru' that check
Herbo, herbo this and that
You would think i'm playing track the way I'm running to that sack
Running, running to that sack
The way I'm running to that sack
Running, running to that sack
Running, running to that sack
Running, running to that sack
The way I'm running to that sack
You would think i'm playin' track the way I'm running to that sack

(Verse)
Gherbo I'm that nigga, I hip up sacks and I spend that sack
I Luv Glizzys, I luv Macs just bought a fifty shot fo' Max
All these racks that I got
And my shooters around me
They shooting about me, I'm safe and they strapped
Up in the club hit a nigga wit a 5th of Moet
Watch your step nigga, where yo head at, straight to the back
I don't politic in the club, straight to the back
All these hoes in my face but I'm straight to the back
Got them poles in the place, all of my niggas got a pole on they waist
Put holes in ya face, now we gone
Clear the scene, smokin' loud
Sippin' lean, that's the remedy
Pour pineapple crush, bitch I don't do Hennessy
I came from the bottom these bitches ain't want me
But now that I'm up they remember me
She knockin' me down & right after I nut, we don't fuck
Cause she sucked all my energy
And my nigga I know why you hatin' on me
Cause I'm only eighteen but I've been a G
Why he hatin' on me?
Need to get on his feet
Hit the streets and go try and make him sum' Gz
If we find out you holdin' that white and
That night have my niggas climb in yo chimney
We got fifty shot scopes and Glockz wit the lights
That neva give no nigga sympathy
Lil bro go BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM till the glizzy go empathy
I mean empty, Excuse me, but the Codeine is killin' me

(Hook)

(Verse 2)
Hundred thousand, hunnids, fifty thousand, fifties
Twenty thousand, twenties we don't count the ones
Buy a lot of guns thirty shot FN'S
Rugers wit the beams glizzies wit the drums
Bitches on me daily want to have my baby
Ho you must be crazy I am not the one
Louie to the wallet nothing in this pocket
Racks in my jacket I look like a bum
I got lil niggas doing hits fo' fun
Niggas hating on me cause I fuck their bitches
I just do it just becuz & I luv to stunt
All these hunnids on me
I just do this shit fo' cause 
RIP my niggas and free all my niggas
I get high, it's like I'm talking to my niggas
Bussing off them hitters
Leaning, rolling swishas
Remember them days posted up on the eight wit my niggas
And I didn't have anything now we all out of state
Smoking dope, sipping 8's & we walk in the mall and buy anything
When I go in the house
And my mama be asking me, 'boy, why the fuck you keep spending racks?'
Cause I'm young and I neva had all of this money befo' Ma
And I know I'm gon get it back!
Luv money so much put a hollow inside of my head
The day that my bread gone
Smoking this Pasto it's making my head gone
Pasto got my head gone
Don't run thru' the eight block, that's a red zone

(Hook)